Reverse Star Wars
by TakeAnotherBow
Summary: "Erik, YOU are my father" just doesn't sound right. - In which Peter tells Erik the truth, and Erik has to deal with suddenly having a son.
1. Dad

**SPOILERS for X-men Apocalypse! You've been warned!**

* * *

'It's you,' Erik said upon spotting Peter. The boy's sudden, breezy appearance before him did not have quite the same effect on him as before. 'How is your leg?'

Peter bit his lip. His leg, even healed, hurt every day. He knew he should be more merciful to it for at least a few more months, but _damn_ did he miss running. He hated those few couple of days confined to a hospital bed, and the following weeks, and the therapy… He hated the lasting effects it might have on him.

'Oh it's just fine and dandy, thanks for bringing it up,' he mumbled, leaning on the rails Erik was standing by. The man had on a long, gray coat and a stylish hat to go with it and he stood with his hands in his pockets, gazing at the river before him. Breaths turned to vapor in the cold morning, well before Peter's normal wake-up time, but he didn't mind that day.

'That bad?'

His question surprised Peter, he wasn't sure why. He could only huff, shoving his own hands in his pockets and fixing his gaze where Erik's was before. He regretted going for his stylish jacket instead of his warmer, albeit entirely boring coat.

'For what it's worth, I'm sorry you had to go through that,' the older mutant said. Peter sighed heavily.

'Yeah, well, me too,' he said. If Erik had any reaction to that, it wasn't audible, and Peter didn't feel up to looking him in the eyes yet. He knew how to turn this conversation naturally into what he came to talk about, but he could hardly bring himself to open his mouth, and when he did, he just closed it again. After the second time, Erik took matters in his own hands.

'What's eating you, kid?' He asked. 'Don't think I haven't noticed you've been acting weird… lately.'

'It's...' Peter sighed again, digging both hands in his silver hair in frustration. 'I just don't know how to say it.'

'Come,' Erik said, nodding towards the pathway to his right. 'Walk with me. But don't fall behind.'

Peter might have laughed at a joke like that if it weren't coming from Magneto himself. Still, he couldn't stop the corners of his lips from twitching. The two walked alongside the river for a short while.

'This is important, OK?' Peter said, finally, breaking the comfortable silence between the two.

'OK,' Erik replied.

'Like, I wouldn't ask if it weren't,' Peter went on to say.

'I get it, kid,' Erik said, as if urging him to go on.

'What was… your family like?' Peter finally asked. The question took Erik by surprise, but he handled it with unexpected ease. Peter frowned, worrying for a moment that he might not answer, that he would ask him to leave, and he'd hate him and…

'I had a wife,' he answered, finally, voice barely above a whisper. 'And a daughter… Nyina…'

'How old was she?' Peter pressed on, stalling the inevitable like a coward.

'Seven… She was so young...'

Peter looked at Erik's face properly for the first time, afraid there was a rage in his expression that he couldn't hear in his voice, but he just looked… sad. He suddenly felt bad about choosing this way to tell him.

'Were they your first… uh… family?' he asked.

Erik's sadness was replaced by confusion, and as he looked up at Peter, the boy turned his gaze away.

'They were everything,' Erik said, dead serious.

'No they weren't!' Peter blurted out, locking eyes with him. He tried to look a lot less scared than he actually was, but couldn't tell if it was working. Again, he was afraid that he'd pissed Erik off, and he'd leave and they'd never talk again. But he was getting ahead of himself.

'What?' was Erik's simplistic question.

'I mean that you _have_ others, OK?' Peter replied, opting to finish what he started. He made his bed, now he had to lay in it.

'Who? Raven? Charles? The sch...'

'No,' Peter said, feeling panic swell within him, but he ignored it by some miracle. 'I mean _real family_. Actual blood. _Your_ blood.'

They had stopped walking, and Erik was frozen, looking at Peter with a mixture of shock and confusion. The boy tore his eyes away again, biting at his cheek.

'But you left them,' he said, looking up once again, and this time, holding Erik's wide-eyed gaze.

'Peter...'

This was the first time he heard him say his name, and it felt like falling. He caught himself battling tears, and he was losing badly. He had to look away, so he dropped his gaze, silver locks falling to hide his face. He didn't hear a sound from Erik for what felt like hours, and each second was like a nail in his throat, urging him to cry and yell. He felt like he should be angry at the man for all the things he's done, hate him for leaving, but all he could think of was how much he wanted him to stay.

Suddenly, he felt hands at each side of his face, and he slowly lifted his gaze, tearful brown eyes meeting tearful greens.

'Son.'

Peter couldn't hold it in anymore. He wept like a child and he felt like one, too, especially when he felt his fathers arms wrap around him and pull him closer.

'Oh son,' Erik breathed, voice hitching. 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...'

'Dad...' Peter muttered. 'I never said that before. " _Dad..."'_

'I know,' Erik whispered. 'I… Can you forgive me?'

Peter pulled away, looking at his father with a teary smile.

'I forgive you, dad.'


	2. Son

**Before we "continue" (and I use that term lightly, because this isn't quite what you might be expecting), I first want to thank the kind words of the people who took their time to review my work. This is for you!**

* * *

'It's you.' Erik wasn't surprised by the Peter's sudden arrival, which wasn't to say he expected it. The boy's been acting weird around him ever since that day in Cairo… 'How is your leg?'

Peter grimaced, seemingly annoyed at the mere mention of his injury, even after it had healed.

'Oh it's just fine and dandy,' he mumbled, leaning on the rails next to Erik. 'Thanks for bringing it up.' Erik remembered the screams of pain all too well. He wished he would have come to his senses sooner, acted sooner, just so that he wouldn't have had to hear them. This boy has never done anything to wrong him, quite the opposite. If it weren't for him, he might still be trapped in that prison.

'That bad?' He asked. The boy only huffed, but Erik could sense his annoyance wasn't targeted at him, but rather at whatever memories of frustration and pain he had and the things that caused it. The people. Apocalypse, and in an indirect way, Erik himself. 'For what it's worth,' he said, 'I'm sorry you had to go through that.'

'Yeah, well, me too,' Peter replied. Erik was unsure what he meant by that. Not that he knew the boy well, but it wasn't characteristic of him to feel sorry for himself, so he must mean… the other thing.

'What's eating you, kid?' He asked, both out of genuine interest and his own need to take his mind off things.

'It's...' the boy sighed and dug his hands in his peculiar, silver hair. He was having a hard time getting to his point, Erik could tell, but what could this kid possibly have to say to him that's so hard to get off his chest? It occurred to him that perhaps the boy was sent there by someone else, bearing bad news, or maybe he's here to confront him about some grief he might have inadvertently caused him during one of his many… episodes. 'I just don't know how to say it.'

No, the kid didn't seem angry, or grief-stricken. Erik was relieved, although for a moment he wondered if there could be something worse than those two things.

'Come. Walk with me,' he told the kid, turning to walk down the pathway that followed the river. 'But don't fall behind,' he added, smirking at the boy who seemed unable to look at him. Still, he thought he spotted a ghost of a smile on his face. They walked for a while in silence, and for a while everything was peaceful, perhaps even for the boy beside him. He didn't press, only waited until Peter was ready to speak.

'This is important, OK?' he said. So far, nothing he said has given any clue as to what it is he wanted to tell him. But if it got the usually so calm speedster so riled up, it must have been serious.

'OK,' Erik replied.

'Like, I wouldn't ask if it weren't,' Peter went on.

'I get it, kid,' Erik said, hoping his impatience didn't come through in his voice. The boy hesitated for a brief moment before asking his question.

'What was… your family like?'

The question startled him. Why on Earth would he want to know more about Erik's wife and daughter? The boy's not an idiot, he must have known he's treading on some thin ice here. He decided not to let his grief and anger get the better of him. The boy seemed scared enough as it is, and he wasn't about to chase him away just when he finally built up his courage to ask… such a strange question.

'I had a wife,' he managed to say, finding it hard to talk about them. 'And a daughter… Nyina...'

'How old was she?' The boy pressed on. Erik frowned, confused at this strange line of questioning, but decided to humor him.

'Seven… She was so young...'

Peter's eyes met his, and Erik saw regret within them.

'Were they your first… uh… family?' he asked. This only served to further confuse Erik. What was he getting at?

'They were everything,' he said, sternly.

'No they weren't!' Peter snapped. Erik was shocked. His simple response set off so many questions, so many feelings within him that he could barely choose which ones to voice.

'What?' was the question he settled on asking. There was no point in getting angry at the kid before he got a chance to explain himself.

'I mean that you _have_ others, OK?' Peter replied. Erik remembered Raven's pleas back in Cairo. Peter was present then, he heard her say it, so why was he repeating it?'

'Who? Raven? Charles? The sch...'

'No,' Peter interrupted. Erik frowned. 'I mean _real family._ Actual blood. _Your_ blood.'

Erik froze. How could he assume…? Who does he think he…? What is that supposed to mean? The pieces were slowly falling into place, but still, there was something…

'But you left them,' Peter said, once again looking straight into his eyes. This time, it was sorrow he saw in them, and suddenly he understood. His comment in the elevator back in the Pentagon, his answer when he asked him why he came back in Cairo, his questions about his family… It all made sense. And why would he lie about it?

'Peter...'

The boy seemed on the verge of tears when he dropped his gaze, letting his hair hide his face, and his shoulders stooped. Erik realized he has never called him his name before. He's never said the name of his own son out loud. He placed his hands on each side of the boy's face, gently lifting his head so he could look him in the eyes when he said

'Son.'

Tears fell freely from the boy's brown eyes and he pulled him closer. He was embracing his son for the first time as a grown man.

'Oh son,' he said, voice hitching. If he had any more tears to shed, he might have joined the boy in crying. 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...'

'Dad...' the boy muttered. 'I never said that before. "Dad..."' His words stung, like an accusation, even though he knew they weren't.

'I know,' Erik whispered. 'I… Can you forgive me?'

Peter pulled away, and for a split second Erik thought he might disappear, but instead, he smiled. Relief washed over Erik even before his son replied.

'I forgive you, dad.'


	3. Supersonic Man

'Fine,' Erik said. 'I'll go back to that school with you.'

Peter beamed, seemingly ready to jump with excitement.

'On one condition,' Erik continued. Peter looked worried for a second, and Erik regretted having a perpetually grave tone. 'We go by car. And I'm driving.'

Peter looked as if he couldn't decide whether he was relieved that his father came without objection, or disappointed that they'd have to go back by car. _There's no way you're taking me on that long of a run, boy._

* * *

Peter rummaged through what little cassettes Erik had in his car.

'Beethoven, Chopin,' he listed, 'Liszt… Don't you have anything from this century?'

Erik raised an eyebrow, but otherwise kept his eyes on the road.

'Try the glove compartment,' he said. Peter opened the little hatch, and found two flimsy cassettes inside. One was a blues classics collection, and the other was a Queen album. A large smile spread across the boy's face, and he flipped the Queen cassette over to look at the track list.

'Jackpot,' he said, and shoved the cassette into the player.

Erik spared a glance his way before looking back at the road.

' _Tonight I'm gonna have myself a real good time,'_ sang Freddie Mercury. Peter leaned back, joining hands at the back of his head. Erik had only a vague idea of where the song was going. He barely ever listened to that cassette, he only had it there in the first place because somebody insisted he needed to have it in his car and wouldn't leave him alone until he agreed. ' _I feel a_ _li_ _ve, and the world,_ _I'll turn it_ _inside out, yeah...'_

Peter started mouthing the words along, complete with goofy hand-motions. He put his silver shades on and unfolded his collar so it stood up, which made him look like a pretentious rock star, and continued his little performance.

' _I'm floating around in ecstasy so – don't. Stop. Me. Now…'_ Peter made a show of pointing at Erik while leaning in. _'Don't. Stop. Me. Cause I'm having a good time, having a good time!'_

The tempo picked up, and Erik found he was enjoying both the music and Peter's silly antics. He sped the car up slightly above speed limit, but didn't let himself get carried away. Still, the boy seemed to appreciate this small act of lawbreaking and grinned even wider as he pretend-sang.

' _I'm a shooting star leaping through the sky, like a tiger, defying the laws of gravity,'_ Peter pointed towards the sky and slowly lowered his hand, stopping at every beat to match the rhythm of the song. ' _I'm a racing car passing by like Lady Godiva, I'm gonna go, go, go,_ _t_ _here's no stopping me.'_ With each "go" Peter punched the air before him, then wiggled his index finger ( _there's no),_ held his palm out ( _stopping_ ), and finally, pointed to himself ( _me!_ ) while facing Erik, as if he was talking to him.

Erik stopped resisting the urge to laugh. He felt he owed the boy to open up a bit and let himself be happy, if only for a few fleeting minutes. Peter had his fingers in a "v" shape horizontally by one of of his eyes as he mouthed on, doing a weird little dance.

'Sounds like this song was written for you,' Erik commented.

'Mm-hmm,' Peter hummed between two lines.

' _I wanna make a supersonic man out of you!_ ' He pointed at Erik again, and the man raised a hand in protest, but he was still chuckling. _I'm sure you do_.

* * *

Peter wondered about the half sister he never met. The Professor has told him about her when he asked him what happened to Erik, and Charles, the patient and generous man he was, had been able to supply him with just enough information. In fact, he was the one who helped him find his father the next day.

Erik wondered about the son he never knew he had. When he first met the boy, he was just a rascal looking for trouble, rescuing him from the Pentagon just for the hell of it. Charles had told him about how Peter saved everyone (well, almost everyone) in the school when it blew up. Of course, the Professor himself had only heard of it from the other students, who hardly saw more than a blur of the whole thing. The full story of how Quicksilver saved everyone was known only to the boy himself.

Then, Peter wondered about what Erik was like before he was imprisoned in the Pentagon. By all accounts, still not a perfect person, but someone who was able to make an impression on a younger Charles Xavier. He certainly made an impression on the millions of people watching on TV as he dropped a stadium on the White House. His dad was famous.

Erik had only known his daughter when she was still a child. By the time he found out about his son, he was a grown man, although a child in heart. He couldn't protect his daughter, but Peter was still there. What kind of a father would he be if he'd just leave him, after everything that has happened? Would he be able to live with himself if he found out one day that his only surviving child died because he wasn't there, ready to _die_ in his place?

 _No._ Erik knew what he had to do. He couldn't bear losing anyone else, it would destroy him.

* * *

Charles wondered about Erik and Peter. He assumed that Peter had, by that time, already told Erik the truth. Although at first he encouraged Peter to let Erik know he still had a family, he was beginning to doubt the soundness of that idea. Erik was still grieving the loss of his wife and daughter, obviously feeling like a failure for not being able to save their lives, or for getting them into that situation in the first place. Peter was wise not to drop that load on him right away, but Erik had the right to know about it, so the boy felt uncomfortable in the situation. He waited months before talking it through with Charles, and even then, it was evident that he _wanted_ to tell Erik, he just didn't know how. Charles showered him with advice, and told him everything he thought was important to know about Erik before engaging in such a serious conversation with him. Over all, he felt he did the role of the mentor well.

But now, when he thought about it, he knew exactly how it would affect Erik in the long run. He would become overprotective of Peter, and that could generate conflict between the two. After all, Peter was an adult, and did just fine without Erik.

Charles sighed and shook his head. He couldn't change the past, but he could get ready for what the future might bring.


	4. Sweet Dreams

**In reply to a comment, I don't plan on including Wanda in this fic. She doesn't appear in the movie, at least not in any way that's confirmed, and I'd like to primarily focus on Peter and Erik's relationship. With that said, things take a turn for the interesting in this chapter, so strap in!  
**

* * *

 _Woods. Armed men, a girl with them. His wife is standing beside him. They negotiate until they release the girl and he takes her place amongst them. She cries and cries in her mother's arms until there are birds everywhere and it's chaos. Abruptly, she's silent, and he sees that her and her mother have been killed by a single arrow piercing them both, but it might as well have pierced his chest, it hurt so much. He runs to embrace them, but there's no more "them" anymore. He grabs his wife's necklace, the only metallic object in the vicinity, and kills them all._

Peter woke up horrified. It took him a moment to realize he was just in his room and to calm down. He untangled himself from his sheets and stumbled out of bed, sparing a quick glance at the alarm clock beside him. 03:06, it read. He hoped he hadn't screamed or made too much noise when he woke up. He didn't want anyone to come check up on him.

 _Peter_ , the Professor called in his head.

 _It's fine,_ Peter thought in reply, and hoped the Professor hadn't already looked into his head to know that it really wasn't. That he was scared, not only because of what he saw, but because of the very fact that he was able to see it. It wasn't his memory, it belonged to Erik, so why was he able to dream about it? As far as he knew, neither him nor his dad had anything resembling telepathic powers.

Peter practically _felt_ the Professor's disbelieving look. He grimaced and shook his head, as if to get him out of his mind.

 _Peter-_ he left the mansion, and thereby the Professor's reach, before he could finish his thought. The night was chilly and he only had a loose pair of pants and a thin shirt on, but he was running fast enough for it not to matter. He didn't go very far, just to the nearest diner. He was able to pick his goggles up before he left, but he didn't think to get money, too. Still, he walked in and sat down by a table, goggles hanging from his neck instead of their usual position – he figured he already looked weird enough barefoot and in pajamas, anyway.

Beside the waitress, he was the only person there. She started walking towards him, but he waved her off. She shrugged and went back to whatever she was doing before he entered. Now, he had privacy to think.

Erik's memories had no place in his head, that much he knew. It couldn't have been some sort of a father and son mutant bond, because he's always been his son, but it never happened before. Then again, they never really slept under the same roof before, either. If anything, he only got more confused the more he thought about it.

When Peter looked up, the waitress was standing beside his table, pouring him a cup of coffee.

'I don't have any money,' he told her.

'I can see that,' said the lady, with a raised eyebrow. 'It's alright, kid.' She handed him the cup, and he took it without any further objection. He normally didn't drink coffee, didn't need it, but this time, any sort of distraction would do. Not that drinking coffee was a particularly demanding activity, but it was better than nothing.

The diner's door creaked open, and in walked Erik Lensherr himself, heading straight towards Peter. He sat down on in front of him, joining hands on the surface of the table, and looked at him with pure concern.

'What is it, Peter?' He asked.

'I… I'm not sure,' Peter said, shifting nervously in his seat. Again, he found it difficult to look into his father's eyes. After all, he just saw him murder a bunch of people, maybe not in reality, but in a dream he knew to be a memory. His mind raced and, not for the first time, he thought about the many bad things he knew Magneto has done. The man in front of him might have seemed like a changed person, but nothing changed the things he's done.

'Charles didn't tell me much,' Erik said. 'He just told me that I'd have to talk to you if I wanted to know what happened.'

'It's… complicated, dad,' Peter said, eyes cast on the table before him. For a while there was only silence between them, and then Erik turned in his seat, ready to stand up.

'I see,' he muttered. He reached into his pocket and dropped a few coins on the table, the price of the coffee complete with a tip. 'Let's get you back to the school.'

Peter just nodded. The two stood up from their table and walked out of the diner, where Erik's car was parked. The drive back to the school was silent, and neither of them spoke a word to each other once they got out of the car and walked to their own rooms in the mansion. When he reached his room, Peter dropped face-first on his bed, and fell asleep almost immediately. That's why he didn't usually have coffee – its effects never lasted long with him.

He didn't stir when Erik walked into the room later on and covered him with a blanket, or when he sat down beside him on the edge of his bed. He stayed like that for a few minutes, and then he reached for the boy's shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze before he stood up and left the room.


	5. History Repeating

'Mind if I join you?'

Peter looked up at Erik, standing beside him beneath the shade of a large tree. Peter patted the ground next to him in answer, and Erik sat down next to him. They sat in silence for a while, taking in the view of the newly rebuilt mansion and its surroundings.

'What happened last night?' Erik finally asked. Peter sighed and shook his head, raising his knees up so he could place his arms on them.

'You won't like this,' he muttered.

'I think I can handle it,' Erik said, with a microscopic amount of humour, which Peter seemed to pick up on.

'Oh, I think this will give you a run for your money,' he replied, but he wasn't so much in the joky mood.

'Tell me anyway,' Erik pressed on. It was so hard to get anything out of this boy. He wondered how his mother could handle it, but that train of thought would have lead him to uncharted territories which he wasn't ready to deal with at the moment. Peter sighed again, and this time, it seemed like he was gonna spit it out.

'Isawhowtheydied,' he said, a bit too quickly.

'Sorry, what?' Erik asked, tilting his head forward to hear his son better.

'I said I _saw_ how they _died,'_ Peter replied, not significantly slower, but slow enough. Erik froze. Did he mean what he thought he meant? Of course. What else could he mean? But did that mean that he saw what happened next?

'Oh...' he breathed. This time, it was him who was unable to look his son in the eyes.

'Not only that,' Peter continued. 'I saw it all through your eyes. I felt it all.'

It was Erik's turn to sigh. He brought his hands up to his head and dug them in his hair, repeating the motion a couple of times before he settled down again.

'I'm sorry you had to see that,' he muttered.

'I know you are,' Peter said, his voice tired. Erik looked back at him. He was leaning against the tree with legs sprawled out. It was hard to tell what he might have been thinking.

'But how?' Erik asked. Peter gave him a vague shrug.

'I have no idea,' he replied.

'Maybe Charles or Jean will know,' Erik said, but wasn't really convinced about it. Peter was silent for a bit after that.

'That would mean showing it to them, too,' he said. 'You know that, right?' Erik nodded, barely visibly. 'Are you sure you're ready for that?

'Don't worry about me, kid,' Erik said, with a sad smile. 'This is something that needs to be done. Besides, I think Charles has seen it before.'

'You trust him, don't you?' Peter asked. Erik nodded.

'I just don't know how he could trust me,' he sighed.

'Well, he _can_ read your mind,' Peter said. 'I'm just saying, that might be why.' Erik chuckled at that, which surprised him more that it did Peter. Erik stood up, dusting himself off, and offered a hand to the boy. Peter took it and pulled himself up.

'Let's go back to the school,' Erik said. 'We'll talk to Charles when he's done with his classes.'

Peter looked like he was about to say something when he saw it: someone was standing in the bushed behind Peter, aiming what appeared to be a gun at him. Erik grabbed both of his shoulders, hoping to get him out of the way before the trigger was pulled, but the gunman was too fast. A red flash, and Peter froze, before sinking to the ground in Erik's arms. Erik couldn't think. The very same scene the boy saw in his nightmare played over and over again in his mind, but this time, it wasn't his wife or his daughter in his arms, but his long lost son. Another flash of red, and he fell backwards. The last thing he saw was Peter being lifted by a man, and everything went black.

* * *

 **I apologize for the brevity, but I'll try to update as soon as I can. I'll be honest with you, dear readers, I don't know exactly which way this is gonna go in the long run. If that's OK with you, then see you in the next chapter!**


	6. Long Road To Ruin

When Erik woke up, he was alone. The room was dark for the most part, with small, sharp lights illuminating parts of the bare, concrete wall. After years, he felt once again like he did in the prison below the Pentagon. There was not a single metallic object within his reach.

Erik himself was shackled to a diagonal platform, facing the door of his circular cell. There was a light just above him, illuminating his entire figure, clad in plain, gray clothes. The door opened, and a man in uniform walked through, with a self-confident look on his face. Erik involuntarily pulled at his restraints. This person wasn't familiar to him, but damned if he didn't hate him on sight.

'Erik Lensherr,' the man began, clapping his hands together. 'The famous Magneto, so easily caught, once again. Although you might find _we_ are not quite as cuddly as the secret service.'

'Where is Peter?' Erik asked, sounding calm, but glaring daggers into the man before him.

'The silver-haired one?' the man asked, although he clearly knew who Erik was referring to. 'He's elsewhere.'

' _Where_ is he?' Erik asked again, leaning in as close as he could with the restraints. The man appeared amused.

'We had no idea the boy meant so much to you, Mr Lensherr,' he said, his tone mocking. 'He's a fine catch, by all accounts, and he is a tricky one.'

'What did you do to him?' Erik growled. He didn't want to play into the man's little games, but he felt he had no choice. He _had_ to know what happened to his son. The man just smiled.

'The guns we used on you were designed to knock out, rather than to harm,' he said, 'but it _is_ still a little unpredictable, and accidents happen.'

Erik found it was hard to breathe normally. Anger swelled within him, and fear and helplessness. The man's smile only grew at this reaction.

'Who _is_ that boy to you?' he asked. A look of realization stretched across his face. 'He's all you have, isn't he? Is he your...' he was laughing now, and Erik hated him more than he thought was possible. 'Is he your _son_?'

Erik didn't reply, just stared, right into the man's eyes. If looks could kill, the man would have ceased to exist right then and there. Instead, he just laughed again.

'How impolite of me,' he said. 'We're having such a great conversation and I haven't even introduced myself. My name is Stryker, and I will be your host for… the foreseeable future.'

'Know this, Stryker: I'm going to kill you,' Erik growled. Stryker raised his eyebrows, seemingly not at all threatened by what Erik meant as a promise.

'No,' Stryker said, 'but you're going to tell me everything you know about the school and Charles Xavier.'

He turned around and left the room. Erik fumed. He felt more helpless than he did imprisoned in the Pentagon, more angry and more desperate. What Stryker said could only mean one thing: torture. Erik steeled himself. He was ready for whatever they had planned for him, but he wasn't going to give up the school.

He couldn't tell how much time had passed when the door opened again, and in came two men, each holding onto a third person: Peter. Erik immediately pulled at his restraints, struggling against all hope to get free and run up to his son. Peter wasn't so much held down as supported by the two men. He looked like he could barely stand, and his head kept bobbing down as he struggled to look at Erik. It was as if he was slipping in and out of consciousness.

'Peter!' Erik gasped. Stryker appeared in the door. He slowly made his way to stand beside the men holding Peter, and grabbed the boy's hair with one hand and his chin with the other, forcing him to look at him. Peter held his gaze as fiercely as possible when one's just half conscious.

'You're not gonna run away, are you, boy?' Stryker said, giving Peter's head a small shake.

'Ffffuck off,' Peter muttered. Stryker gave one of the men holding Peter a nod, and he kneed him in the stomach. Peter gasped for air, slumping down to the ground, only held up by the steely grip of the henchmen by his side. Erik flinched, but didn't want to betray his utter despair just yet. Peter was slowly able to pull his legs beneath him, rising to a weak standing position.

'You see, your boy here is receiving small, but constant doses of sedatives through here,' he said, grabbing Peter's arm and twisting it to show Erik the IV, connected to a vial that was strapped onto his upper arm. The whole thing was designed so it was impossible to remove by the bearer. 'None of you are going anywhere, but you can make it easier on your boy if you cooperate.' Stryker let go of Peter's arm, and it fell limply by his side. 'Tell me everything you know about the school and other mutants.'

Erik just glared. For now, it was easier to stay silent, but he wasn't sure what they were planning to do with him or Peter. It wasn't hard to guess that they would never let them go.

Stryker seemed to lose his patience. He pulled his metal-free gun out and pointed it at Peter's knee, to which the boy gasped and tried to back away, but was kept in place by the two bulky men holding him down.

'N-no, please, don't,' he protested, his speech slurry. He just recovered from a knee injury, and an other one would most likely hinder any chances of him running again. Erik only felt even more trapped. Stryker cocked his gun, glaring at him.

'Alright,' Erik said. 'I'll… I'll tell you what I know. Just don't hurt him, _please_.'

Stryker smiled, raising the gun from Peter's knee.

'Now this kind of talk I like,' he said. He looked like he was about to continue when someone else came in and whispered something in his ear. 'I would love to continue this conversation, but sadly, something has come up.'

Suddenly, he turned the gun in his hand around and brought its handle down on the nape of Peter's neck. The men let him fall to the ground as they turned around to follow Stryker out of the cell. When they left, the shackles holding Erik down released him, and he slipped to the ground. He used that momentum to run up to Peter, who lay motionless on the floor. He was clad in the same, gray clothes as Erik, matching the silver of his hair. Erik turned him around so that he lay on his back, and placed his head gently in his lap, keeping his hands on each side of his face.

'Why is this happening to us?' He asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his question directed at no one in particular.

'Don't ask me,' Peter muttered, quietly. Erik felt like he could cry in relief, but knew things were still far from OK. For now, though, he was just glad that Peter was alright.

'Peter...'

'What, you think it's that easy… to get rid of me?' Peter slurred, smirking slightly at his father.

'How do you feel?' Erik asked.

'S-sssleepy,' Peter replied, his head tilting slightly to the side. He looked as if he was about to doze off again.

Erik looked at the contraption on his son's arm. The string of his IV was hidden by the wraps around his forearm, which was secured by straps of leather that seemed to be locked in place by a hard plastic lock. He could do nothing to take it off.

'Rest easy, son,' he whispered, but Peter was already unconscious.


	7. Sinister Kid

**Hello all! Sorry for the late update. Anyway, to answer a few questions, no, I'm still not planning to include Wanda, and I'm also gonna keep this fic ship-free, simply because I'm just not the shipper type. Enjoy!**

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When Peter came to, he was laying on the floor of a dark room, alone. He tried to sit up, but immediately fell back when dizziness hit him. He was just starting to remember where he was and how he got there, and who he was supposed to be with. He sat upright again, glancing around the room for any sign of Erik he might have missed, but all he saw was an empty holding apparatus in the middle of the space, straps hanging loose.

An irritating feeling, like an itch, erupted in his forearm, and he brought it up to look at it. The strange, strap-on IV was still there, along with the needle and the vial. Its sheer existence frustrated him, and he began clawing and grabbing at it, but to no avail. He cursed under his breath and stood up carefully, afraid he'd just fall back again like last time, but it didn't happen. Then, he began walking in circles around the room, at first very slowly, and then faster and faster. Although he found it harder to do than normal, he began to jog, and just as he was about to up his tempo, the doors to the cell opened, and he stopped abruptly.

Two guards came inside, immediately going for Peter, who backed away from them. They followed, and he kept backing away, baiting them further inside. Then, when they were almost at the wall opposite to the door, he made a run for it. He only managed to make it through the door before his knees gave in and he threw up. The guards were already running towards him, but with another quick move, he pulled the lever on the control panel beside the door and it slammed shut before the guards could come through. Peter threw up some more, but he didn't mind, because he made it out of the cell. Now all he had to do was find Erik, rescue him, and take both of them out of this place. Something he'd normally have no trouble doing, but, even though the sedatives they drugged him with seemed to have worn off for the most part, some effects still lingered. They probably underestimated just how much of this stuff was needed to really slow him down, or they made just made a simple mistake. Either way, they were gonna pay.

He didn't waste any more time thinking about it, and took off along the corridor, kicking and punching at any guards he met along the way and knocking down the cameras. After a few fractions of a second, though, he had to pause. He was starving.

 _Right. Next stop, food._ With some luck, he was able to find a small office space that had a mini fridge in one corner. He tore its door open and found a can of soda, a sandwich labeled _"Marley's - don't steal!"_ and a plate of grapes.

Peter wolfed down the whole sandwich, all of the grapes and drank the soda, but he still found himself a little hungry. Regardless, he knew it was enough for at least ten minutes or so, if he didn't go too fast. He could achieve a lot in a split second, let alone ten minutes.

One second later he was speeding down yet another corridor, searching for Erik. He had to be there _somewhere._ Fractions of a second felt like several minutes as he ran and ran zig-zagging from room to room, until he found one full of TV screens, each showing security footage from the facility. Two men sat in front of the screens. They didn't even know what hit them before they fell unconscious.

'Not sorry,' Peter muttered. No alarms had been raised yet, as only a few seconds have passed since his escape, but that didn't mean he could let himself get cocky. Even if their methods were imperfect, these people were clearly prepared to deal with him.

He skimmed the screens, searching for Erik, and found him on the screen labeled "interrogation room." He was sitting in a dark room by a table, talking to a man on the opposite side whose face wasn't visible to Peter. From what he could tell, his father wasn't hurt, but then the image wasn't very clear.

He needed a plan, he couldn't exactly waltz in there and slip out with Erik just like that.

He needed metal.

There was a map of the facility in the room, and he tore it off and took off in search for metallic objects. In a few seconds he found three pens, a bunch of screws, coins and a coil of wire. He was able to find all of this without trouble, easily knocking out guards who still weren't alerted of his escape, although he knew that any second now he was going to face larger resistance.

He found the interrogation room fairly easily. Two guards stood by each side of the door, both of whom he knocked out before they could even see him. He kicked the door in so fast it almost tore off.

He was greeted by the sight of the man by the name of Stryker, frozen in time as he was walking towards the door, with a look of urgency on his face. No doubt he had just been informed of the escape. Peter rammed into him with his shoulder, knocking him against the opposite wall and out cold.

He straightened up, the first time he truly stopped "rushing" since his escape, and it was like coming to a halt after minutes of spinning. He dropped everything in his hands as his knees gave in, and he braced for impact, only to be caught by Erik.

'Peter?'

'Present,' Peter said weakly. Erik lowered him slowly to the ground so that both of them were sitting, and for the first time seemed to realize what it was that Peter dropped on the ground before.

'We're getting out, kid,' he said, squeezing Peter's shoulder reassuringly. 'Can you stand?'

'I think I'm gonna throw up,' Peter muttered. 'What? Yeah, I'll try.'

Erik slowly stood up, pulling Peter with him. The pens, coins and screws started spinning around them so fast they blurred, while the wire unraveled and circled around their feet. Erik pulled Peter's arm around his shoulders and the two walked out of the room, ready to face whoever came their way.

They were able to round the first corner without any difficulty, but at the end of the corridor three men were already waiting, armed and armored, heading straight towards them. Wire caught two of them by the throat and pulled them down, chocking them, while the third was blasted in the face with screws and pens and coins. When they were taken care of, Erik recalled the metallic objects, and they walked on, following the map Peter tore off earlier to the garage, where they would steal a vehicle.

For a while there were no more guards, but Erik knew it couldn't be so easy. True enough, when they were almost at their destination, a larger group of guards stood in their way. Erik braced himself, searching for ways he could get them out of this situation, but he found they were surrounded, and he wouldn't be able to take all of them out fast enough.

'Leave them to me,' Peter muttered. Erik glanced worriedly at his son before looking back at the men surrounding them.

'Are you sure?' He asked, quietly, so only Peter could hear him.

'Yeah,' Peter replied. 'Easy.'

Erik wasn't sure if Peter was referring to the solution to their problem or trying to calm him down. Suddenly, Peter wasn't by his side anymore, and in the next second, all hell broke loose. Two bullets grazed Erik, one his shoulder, the other his leg, but he ignored the injuries, focusing instead on Peter, who was on all fours on the ground, throwing up.

Erik knelt down beside him, placing his hands on each of his shoulders. When he was done heaving, Erik helped him sit up and let him lean on him while he caught his breath. Only then did he notice that his son's nose was bleeding, and he looked pale, more so than usual.

'We have to get out of here, now,' Erik said, pulling Peter up, hoping that he would be able to at least stand, but he was dead weight. He chose to pick him up completely instead, and carried him the rest of the way to the garage.

He was satisfied to find that almost everything there was made out of metal, or worked with a metallic mechanism. He picked a car he thought would be fast enough and sat Peter down on the passenger seat. He was in the driver seat when he saw in the mirrors that more men were flooding into the garage, but they stood no chance against him this time. He slammed the car door shut, and with a small motion of his hand, set the rest of the cars flying towards the men.

His own car hummed to life and he sped towards the garage door, which he opened with another swipe of his hand. Soon, they were out in the open.

They were free, and no one could follow them.


End file.
